


Trapeze

by Tavmunchkinbutt



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tavmunchkinbutt/pseuds/Tavmunchkinbutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just something I wrote at 4:00 that I'm probably never going to add to because I'm pretty sure this is shit. It's basically Gamzee and Tavros admitting their feelings. Cute boyfriends. I suck at summaries. Oh and it's in Tavros' POV because how do I Gamzee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapeze

It never occurred to you how odd silence was. It could be fearful, happy or some other thing that you really couldn’t explain with words. Usually with you, though, it was a warm silence. One where everything is calm, relaxed, and you feel safe. Now was one of those times.  
The two of you lie on the floor in the laboratory, eyes glued to the lime- green tinted ceiling. It’s silent and serene, and you really don’t know why you’re here in the first place, but at the same time you do. “Gamzee” you say, and you can hear him shuffle beside you. “Yeah my brother?” You know he’s looking at you, but your eyes don’t meet his. Instead they stay fixed on the ceiling, counting the vertices of the tiles above you. “How’d you find out about this place?” His breathing is slow and light and you can feel the relaxed warmth emanating from him. “I was angry one day,” he starts, and you wish you could look at him. “I was so motherfuckin’ angry. So I started walkin’ around and shit.” You hum as a response and he continues still. “You know I don’t usually get all up and angry, bro, but this time it was hard for me not to. So I had to blow off some steam.” Now you’re interested. “Why were you, so angry?” There’s a silence, and you dub it to be annoying. Or, you say it’s annoying. In all honesty, it’s scary. He sighs and you feel the calloused pad of his thumb on your cheek. “I thought they hurt you, Tav.” You swear that one of these days, you’ll cut off your horns so you can look at him properly when he’s speaking beside you like this. “I saw them. When they cut off your legs.” His thumb starts stroking lightly, and you close your eyes to listen. “It scared the shit outta me when I saw that chocolate blood of yours gettin’ all friendly with the floor.” A span of silence seems to stretch on between you for what seems like hours before he begins to speak again. “I didn’t wanna lose you, and I thought I was gonna, so I got angry. I up and left for a while to chill the fuck down and I was wanderin’ around in this place. It was all so neat to me. I just knew I had to come take you down here so you could get your see on this here miraculous place yourself, but I thought you were a goner, so it made me angrier. Then Karbro saw me huddled up and cryin’ in some corner, I can’t get my rememberin’ onto where, and he let me know you were all safe. I quit sheddin’ my look stub leakage and I ran the fuck back to go see you, then I saw later that you were all cool and shit, so I up and motherfuckin’ brought you here, see?” Your eyes fluttered open to see that he was directly above you now, his face gracing a sweet smile that was covered by paint. “I’m glad you’re all safe, Tav.” You’re scanning over his face now, drinking in the light details of emotion from his relaxed jaw to his eyes which were… Watery?  
A warm tear kisses your cheek, and you realize that it is his, not yours. “Gamzee? You’re crying…” The clown closes his eyes now, letting out a shaky sigh. “Sorry bro, I just. Fuck. I thought I was gonna lose you and I didn’t want that shit to happen. I can’t up and have it to be happenin’ bro.” His smile slipped into a small frown, and you raised your hand to wipe away those sweet purple teary pearls from his cheeks and eyes, trying your best not to smudge his greasepaint. “It won’t happen, Gamzee. I am here, and I won’t be leaving anytime soon.” His eyes crack open a little, and his lips curl into a small smile. His voice cracks with emotion when he asks you something that you aren’t sure if you can answer without lying.

“Promise?”

“Yes. I promise, Gamzee.”

“So you ain’t gonna leave no matter what?”  
Lies. All lies. You know you shouldn’t be promising this.

“No. Never, no matter what.”

His lips curl more, and you can see the happy glimmering in his eyes. You were expecting that. But what you weren’t expecting was for him to lean closer than he ever has before and press his lips against yours.  
His lips are soft yet laden with the most unpleasant taste of toxin from his face paint. That’s pretty much the only thing you can comprehend right now.  
Why was he kissing you? Why couldn’t you think straight? Why were his lips so determined to make yours move? Did he just get closer?  
Your head was a spinning mess, and Gamzee was now pressing his chest against your own. He let out a small whimper as if to motivate you to move, but you can’t. You’re too shocked, staring at the painted lids of his eyes that are squeezed shut as he presses his lips desperately against your own. Your own eyes are wide with slight horror. Your heart was pounding, resonant in your ears. Everything seemed to be spinning.  
Why was he kissing you?  
Now you try desperately to shove him off, but it’s hard. For being a mere sack of bones in soft skin and deceptive clothing, the clown is pretty heavy. Your hands push at his shoulders, but he still tries to get your lips moving, and eventually you give in.  
Your lips meld with his, and all you can taste is stale Faygo, sopor and paint. It was a sickening concoction, but you couldn’t complain. And anyways, you didn’t want to.  
He’s actually a pretty good kisser.  
You aren’t sure why, but your hands betray your mind and start wandering across Gamzee’s shoulders to thread into the locks of dark, gravity-defying curls. Your mind screams at you to push him off and run away, but you don’t. You lay there without a fight just… Kissing him. But you still can’t seem to comprehend why though.  
You can feel the heat of his cheeks radiate, mixing with the warmth that is coming from yours as your lips glide over each other, mixing your taste with his. His hands are roaming now, and his body is flush against yours. Gamzee’s palms make their way to rest on the sides your face to where his thumbs are settled on the curve of your cheeks. It’s not a bad feeling, really, and slowly your mind stops telling you to shove him away.  
And to your dismay, he parts the kiss.  
“I’m sorry Tav, I didn’t mean to… Fuck, I’m stupid.” He draws his hands back and starts to crawl off of you, but he stops. Without even thinking about it, your hands move to the back of his neck and braid with each other, depriving him of movement. That’s when you realize that you can’t let him go. That’s when you realize that you are undoubtedly flushed for Gamzee Makara.

“Don’t leave me.”

You plead.

His eyes are wild with curiosity, searching for a covered sliver of understanding.

“But I thought… You were shoving me Bro?”

Fuck your mind; you’re going to listen to your heart.

“Well yes, but, I uh, realized that I can’t have you leave me, Gamzee.”

Your hands fall limp from his neck to simply drop across his shoulders, and you sigh, collecting your courage for these next words.

“I think, I am flushed for you.”

 At first you figure that you said something wrong. He’s staring at you hard as if he’s searching through your soul itself, and you think for a moment that he’s going to leave. But why would he? He was the one to kiss you! Your head suddenly hurts. You want to go home and cuddle your Tinkerbull plush. You want to avoid him as much as you can because of the fact that you just fucked up royally. Oh at least you thought so. Maybe you didn’t because once again, very insistent lips are pressed against yours.  
Your bloodpusher does this weird thing as if it were an acrobat on a trapeze, and it’s about to fall off into nothingness, but he’s the one to catch you.  
Your hands wander over his shoulders to his clothed chest, tingling because oh god this is so wonderful to you. Your fingers spread over the black fabric, and he makes this sound in the back of his chute that sounds something similar to a purrbeast’s purr. He tilts his head and accidentally bumps his nose with yours, but he mends it by tilting it the other way.  
Now it feels like you two have been kissing for hours, and maybe you have, but you don’t have the slightest care.  
You’re kissing your best friend and everything is perfect. That is, until he parts the kiss again. That’s when you open the eyes, and you aren’t quite sure when you shut them in the first place.  
There is a strand of saliva between you both, and his eyes are half hooded and glossy. His lips are lightly parted still, and there are light specks of purple skittered across his half-painted cheeks. Your cheeks carry the other half of paint, and just as much blush, if not more because your cheeks are on fire.  
He just looks at you for a while, but it’s not like before. He’s not staring daggers into you for an answer. It’s almost as if he’s admiring you like you’re some sort of beautiful masterpiece. You’re looking at him the same way.  
His hand wanders once more, this time to the stripe of hair on your head. His digits sink into the short, stuffy locks, and then they travel down to ghost the stubbly shaven sides, and finally to your cheeks, where they caress your skin as if you’re delicate and can be broken by the slightest of mistaken movement.

“Tavros.”

You don’t want to answer. You’re scared that he is going to reject you.

“Tavros.”

You want to curl by him and snuggle him; and just never EVER let him go. You’re afraid to answer. You might lose him.

“Yes?”

Your heart’s fluttering as fast as it can, and once again you find yourself on that trapeze, and then he catches you once again when you begin to fall.

“Be my matesprit.”

His hand moves with a fluid motion to catch one of yours that is pressed against his chest. He squeezes it lightly before speaking once more.

“This bloodpusher of mine bleeds red for you.” He moves your hand to his heart and you’re surprised to find it’s beating as fast as yours. “So will you?”

You can’t answer with words yet. You don’t trust them. So instead you answer by slipping your upheld hand to his back, pulling forwards so his face his close you yours once more, then, for the first and not final time, you capture his lips in yours. You initiate the kiss.  
And you are glad to find that he kisses back with just as much passion. It’s a kiss that lasts for minutes upon end before you part again so you can speak.

“Yes.”


End file.
